


Steve 'suburban dad' Rogers

by buckybarnes19



Series: Avengers ficlets [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Mild Language, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Stuffed Toys, alcohol use, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnes19/pseuds/buckybarnes19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Just as Steve grabbed his jacket to go out and look for him there was a bang on the front door, some giggling, and a few whispers to be quiet. Steve sighed, put his jacket back on the chair, and waited. The lock finally turned, the door opened, and three people collapsed inside, giggling and laughing and smelling like a bar. Steve scowled.'</p><p>Steve must deal with the aftermath of the gang's drunken night out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve 'suburban dad' Rogers

Steve poked his head around the door and looked inside the room. “Bucky?” There was no answer. The room was dark and cluttered but he peered carefully anyway with a frown on his face. “Wanna make cookies?” he asked slyly, smiling to himself. If there was one thing guaranteed to get Bucky out of hiding it was sweets. But there was no answer and he frowned, wondering where Bucky could have got to. He closed the door of his room and walked down the hall to the living room, glancing at his watch as he walked. It was getting close to midnight and usually Bucky was home by now... but he wasn’t answering Steve’s calls or texts. Years of war made Steve start to expect the worst. Had a Hydra agent found him? An old enemy? A vigilante? Just as Steve grabbed his jacket to go out and look for him there was a bang on the front door, some giggling, and a few whispers to be quiet. Steve sighed, put his jacket back on the chair, and waited. The lock finally turned, the door opened, and three people collapsed inside, giggling and laughing and smelling like a bar. Steve scowled. 

Natasha picked herself up off the floor and helped Bucky, holding onto his wrist and tugging at him, staggering and laughing while Sam lay flat on his face laughing uncontrollably. Steve sighed and helped Natasha pick Bucky off the floor. Smiling at him Bucky said something in Russian that made Natasha giggle, and then Bucky hung his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. For once Steve was glad he never got around to learning Russian. He slung Bucky’s arm over his shoulder and half-carried him to the couch, dropping him there like a bag of very drunk potatoes. Glancing back at the door he sighed at the sight of Sam, who had either passed out or died from alcohol poisoning. Right now Steve didn’t care which. He pulled Sam the rest of the way inside, drawing a squawk of protest from him, closed the door, put Sam in the recovery position, and then left him to happily sleep off the drinking binge. Turning back to the others he found Bucky lounging on the couch and Natasha sitting in the armchair, both of them speaking in Russian. Bucky finished whatever he was saying and Natasha fell over the arm of her chair laughing. 

“Bucky, you need to answer your phone when I call you,” Steve said with admonishment in his voice. 

Natasha held up her hand like a puppet, did the deepest voice she could manage, and said, “Answer your phone, James Buchanan Barnes. This is your father Steve Rogers speaking.”

“Natasha-” Steve started, but Bucky cut him off with his own hand puppet. 

“Stop it, Natasha. This is very serious Captain America business.”

Steve put his hands on his hips. Bad enough he only got a couple hours sleep today, now he had to deal with this shit.

“Bucky Barnes, go to your room and think about what you’ve done,” Natasha said, still working the hand puppet.

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real dad,” the Bucky puppet answered.

Steve glanced at Sam sleeping on the floor and wished that he was unconscious too. He heaved a deep, annoyed sigh and stalked off back down the hall and away from these idiots. He could hear them laughing at him and practically falling over themselves. They stared at Steve in astonishment and curiosity when he returned from Bucky’s room with an armload of stuffed animals and dropped to the floor. Sitting cross-legged, he picked up a teddy bear.

“My name is Bucky Barnes and I’m a drunken moron.”

“My name is Natasha Romanoff and I think I’m just the coolest thing since Captain America was pulled from the ice,” said a tiger in a squeaky voice. Natasha snorted and Steve threw the tiger at her. It hit her in the face.

“I’m Sam Wilson and I hate these idiots until someone brings out the vodka, then they’re my best friends. But I can’t control my liquor so I’ll probably throw up all over Steve’s floor. Oh well!” This came from a owl stuffie, which was the closest thing Bucky had to a falcon. This, too, had a strangely squeaky voice. The real Sam snorted in his sleep and twitched a bit. Natasha and Bucky were having a giggle fit. 

“And as for me,” said the bald eagle dressed in a Captain America outfit complete with shield, “I’m Steve Rogers but you may know me as Captain America. I have to constantly act like an annoyed suburban dad because all my friends have the intellect of very stupid rabbits.”

Natasha threw the tiger back at him. Steve caught it and tossed it to the floor. The bald eagle stuffie spoke again in its stern voice, “Stop that Natasha, or I shall have to ground you.” 

“Steve, do you sit around playing with toys when we’re out?”

“We might have to take him drinking more often,” Bucky said. 

“I’ll stick to the stuffed animals, thanks,” Steve said. He tossed the bear to Bucky, who caught it easily. “I assume you guys don’t need me to help you into your jammies. And take care of Sam,” he said, looking over at the unconscious man by the door. He got to his feet and left the stuffed animals on the floor. “I’m going to bed. Good night.”

Natasha reached down and picked up the Steve eagle. “Caw caw, motherfuckers,” she said.

Steve shook his head and slumped into bed. When he woke up in the morning he couldn’t breathe and for a terrifying moment he thought he was back in the ice, but as he came to he realised he was fine, he was in his own bed in his apartment in the 21st Century, but he was surrounded by something almost as bad as ice. He assumed it was Nat that had filled his bed with stuffed animals. All the ones Bucky owned, it seemed. Plus Bucky, Natasha, and Sam. Whether Sam made his own way here or whether he was carried by the others, Steve neither knew nor cared. He groaned and sighed and struggled to get free only to find it near impossible. “Come on guys,” he said with exasperation, only for one of them to reach over and slap him in the face.

“S’not time to get up,” Natasha moaned, and with a sigh she snuggled deeper into her pillow. Steve cast a baleful eye over her and looked to his other side where Bucky lay with his mouth open and a stream of drool slowly coating Steve’s pillow. 

“Buck,” Steve said. “Get up and preferably out of my bed.”

Bucky opened a bleary eye, glared at Steve, mumbled something in what Steve thought was Russian, and ignored him.

It seemed there would be no escape. Steve stared at the ceiling, disgruntled, and wondered if he ought to throw Bucky and all his stupid stuffed animals out on the street, and Nat and Sam along with them. He glanced down at the end of the bed where Sam was laying along its length like he’d belly-flopped there, content to let his legs and head hang over the edges. 

“This is just my life now,” Steve said to the ceiling. “I must accept it.” Glancing at Bucky, and then his other side at Natasha, he sighed and snuggled back down to sleep for a little while longer.


End file.
